Page 32 of All of Me

“Okay,” I say, trying to sound like a fully functioning adult instead of someone who’d rather discuss literally anything else.

Dr. Everett hands me a pamphlet about postpartum mood disorders and schedules a follow-up appointment on a reminder card. “You’re doing great, Callie. Don’t forget that, and if you ever need to talk, even before our next visit, you can always call me.”

I leave the office, clutching the pamphlet and appointment card, her words echo in my mind. “You’re doing great.” Sure, I’m doing great—except for the fact that my idea of peak productivity lately is managing to shower without Ruby crying in the background. Is that just something she says to everyone, or does she really mean it? I want to believe her, but the doubts creep in anyway.

The thought of explaining everything to Owen feels daunting. How am I supposed to say, “Hey, so I’ve been cleared for sex, but I also might cry if you touch me right now, and oh, by the way, we need to use condoms for the foreseeable future”? Sexy. Real sexy.

Still, I have to talk to him. He deserves to know how I’m feeling, even if I hate to admit I’m struggling. The idea of pausing intimacy to adjust to yet another change feels frustrating, but more than anything, the flicker of hope—of someday adding to our family when the time is right—keeps me moving forward. Maybe it’s not about feeling balanced yet. Maybe it’s about believing I can get there.

I sit in the parking lot of the doctor’s office after the appointment, mulling things over. The appointment went fine—better than I expected, really—but the weight of everything I need to talk to Owen about feels heavy. Before I start the car, I check in to see how things are going at home. I have several messages from Taylor that came through while I was in the doctor’s office. I open them, bracing myself for the circus.

Taylor:

Sara refused pants for a solid twenty minutes. She also dumped an entire box of crackers on the floor and tried to feed them to Ruby. Don’t worry—I stopped her.

I groan softly, pinching the bridge of my nose. Of course Sara was causing chaos. At least Taylor had caught it before Ruby ended up covered in crumbs.

Taylor:

Ruby screamed bloody murder until I figured out she just wanted to be in the swing. Ava declared that babies are “way too much work.” Can’t argue with that logic.

I glance at the dashboard clock, feeling a pang of guilt for leaving Taylor with the girls for so long.

Taylor:

Owen just got here, so I’m officially passing the torch. No major injuries, and the house is still standing. Barely.

A small laugh escapes me despite the knot of anxiety in my chest. Taylor always knows how to balance humor with honesty, and it’s a relief to know she handled things, even if it wasn’t easy. I fire off a quick reply before switching over to text Owen.

Me:

Heading home soon. Everything okay?

His reply comes almost immediately:

Owen:

All good. Taylor left a little while ago. Sara is watching Strawberry Shortcake, Ruby is in the bouncer, and I can’t wait to see you. How was the appointment?

I hesitate for a moment, tapping my fingers against the steering wheel. How do I sum up everything I’m feeling in a text?

Me:

It was fine. I’ll tell you more when I get home. We need to talk.

Shit. Probably not the best choice of words. Before I have the chance to correct my mistake, his reply comes through:

Owen:

Dollface, you’re scaring me. Is everything okay? Are we okay?

The words hit me like a punch to the gut, and I immediately feel awful. Of course he’d read into the way I worded that. I didn’t mean to make him worry, but now I’ve gone and done it anyway.

Me:

Of course we are. I’m sorry—I didn’t mean to make you think otherwise.

Owen:

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